The Tactician And The Noblewoman Of Sacae
by Dragon'sHost
Summary: The story began with them, and became so much more than they had ever imagined. (Hypothetical support conversations between Mark the Tactician and Lyn.)
1. Support C

**I am excited to finally be writing for a game that had a lot of impact on me growing up.**

 **This story is based on the question _"What if Mark was like the newer tacticians and had supports with the characters?"_ I have been thinking about this for longer than is probably healthy, and finally decided to give it a try.**

 **Mark is referred to with they/their pronouns in this fic.**

 **EDIT: Since there's been a couple of comments on this topic, I made Mark's pronouns they/them to pay homage to the fact that Mark's gender is chosen by the player, and the fact that the default name is Mark either way. The idea is to mimic the game, so the readers here are able to think of Mark in whatever gender they like, or in none.**

* * *

 ** _Support C_**

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Sweat pouring down her brow, Lyn called it a day on her training, and sheathed her blade. She strode through the tents, the setting sun casting deep orange, dark yellow, and saccharine red hues across the canvas in a premature autumn. Strong wind pulled at the moorings of the tents, testing the resolve of the stakes pounded into the ground, and roared through the crevice in which they'd erected their camp for the night.

Her hand lingered on the hilt of her blade, even as she walked amongst friendly and familiar faces. Some of the soldiers greeted her as she walked past, and she gave them an answering nod in turn, accompanied by a smile for the ones that she knew on a more personal basis.

The command tent was situated in a strategically defensible spot within the camp, rocks hemming in on two sides. A steep, rocky incline blocked a third, and a dozen other tents prevented a direct approach from the remaining side. Eliwood and Hector's voices rose from within the tent, arguing over their next move.

Lyn would have joined them, but a flutter of green in the corner of her eyes drew her gaze away from the tent. She smiled at the sight of a tattered and discolored cloak, whipping fiercely in the wind, its owner sitting below the tent on an outcropping of rock in the sharp hillside.

"Mark!" she called out, drawing the attention of the tactician. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Her friend smiled up at her. "Your company is always welcome, Lyn." Their quiet voice, somehow not lost in the roar of the wind, was warm. "I am merely enjoying this moment of peace while it lasts."

She picked her way cautiously down to the rock upon which Mark sat. It was a dark grey, a mirror shade to the swollen clouds that had prompted an end to the day's traveling. It jutted out of the hill, providing a sweeping vantage point of the valley far below. Both tactically sound, and a breathtaking view, it was clear why Mark had chosen it.

"How goes your training?" Mark asked her, as she lowered herself to sit beside them. The wind had ruffled their hair into a brown, shaggy mess of strands.

Tucking an errant strand of her own hair behind her ear, Lyn replied, "It goes well. I trained every morning at Castle Caelin, so my skills would not become rusty. It helped me to feel… connected to everyone we journeyed with, even though we were spread far between."

Mark's expression turned pensive, though a smile still played at the corners of their mouth. "Is that so? I'm happy to hear it. Your skills with the Mani Katti have kept us both safe through many a bad scrape."

Lyn sighed, and turned her gaze out towards the valley. Purple and blue crept up the mountain's face, as the sun sank lower on the horizon. "I… I sometimes wonder if it isn't watching over us and keeping us safe," she confided in them. "Do you think that's strange?"

Their gaze followed hers, soaking in the richness of the vista laid out below them. A hawk cried out in the distance, hunting for their dinner. They remained silent for a moment as they thought through their answer. "Not at all," they finally said, their brown eyes returning to Lyn. "It was one of our first stops on our journey, wasn't it? I think it's as much a part of Lyndis's Legion as Wil is."

That made her smile, and she faced them with a new question. "How have you been this past year, Mark? I listened for word of you, but I did not catch even a hint of your trail."

"Oh, I've been here and there. Not much to speak of, really. I've been studying my craft, but mostly in the form of tactical tomes." They let out a soft laugh. "Nothing so exciting as what we went through during Lundgren's uprising."

After that, the conversation lapsed between them – the pair content to let the wind fill their ears instead. Scraggly mountain grass, clinging to the rock-strewn hill, rustled in the twilight. Petrichor soon filled their nostrils as the first droplets of rain fell not too far from their camp.

Then above them, the raised voices of Eliwood and Hector drifted down to their ears. Their voices were heated, though their words were rendered unintelligible by the distance and the approaching storm.

Duty called, and the peace of the moment between them was shattered.

Standing, Lyn ignored the way her limbs creaked. She bent to offer a hand to Mark, and when they took hold of it, she helped them to their feet. "I'm afraid we need to get going for now, but maybe sometime soon we can catch up properly?"

The offer hung in the air between them, their calloused hands still clasped together.

"I'd like that very much, Lyn," Mark said, their eyes crinkling at the corners as they smiled.

"As would I." Her words were heavy on her tongue. "It's good to travel with you again, Mark."


	2. Support B

**The reception for the previous chapter has gotten me pretty excited! Thank you, everyone, for your really nice comments!**

 **I would like to forewarn everyone that I have to make up some things for Mark, because they really didn't get much characterization in their game. I'm mostly thinking along the lines of Mark being the younger Morgan from Awakening (the one not born yet), since in the Japanese version of the game Morgan's name was Marc.**

 **Also decided to pay homage to the fact that most of Lyn's supports revolve around family and her eventual decision regarding Caelin.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 ** _Support B_**

* * *

Torrential rain fell from the sky, churning the pathways between the tents into mud that sucked and pulled at Lyn's feet as she sought a warm escape from the sky. Her hair and clothes were plastered to her skin, and she blinked furiously to keep her eyes clear of the water. The field in which they were camped provided little respite from the wrath of the heavens, which had descended on them without warning.

"Lyn!"

At the sound of Mark's voice calling out to her, Lyn turned at the threshold of her tent. Some distance away, the drenched tactician shuffled their way towards her, struggling through the muck and pausing every few seconds to free their cloak from its grasp. Lyn continued to hold the tent flap open for them. They gave her a grateful smile before ducking in, with Lyn hot on their heels. Shucking their cloak, they let out a small sigh of relief to be free of the soaked, mud-stained garment.

"Thank you," they said, smiling at her. "It's pouring out there."

"Changing of the seasons," Lyn offered as an explanation. She sank to the floor, covered with a mat to prevent her having to lay in the mud as well as trudge through it, and passed Mark a towel. "What brings you to my tent, Mark?"

Mark took the towel with a weary smile and sank down beside her. From within their clothes, they drew out a rolled piece of parchment and several small round stones. "I thought we might discuss potential strategies together, if that's alright with you."

A sigh left her lips before she had the opportunity to smother it. "More strategies? I thought we had discussed all there was to discuss earlier, with Eliwood and Hector?"

The tactician hesitated, uncertainty stealing across their face at the edge in Lyn's voice. "This sudden change in weather brought to mind how ill-prepared we are to move forces across a field with limited mobility and shelter," they said, heat rising in their cheeks. "I thought I would come to you before presenting anything official to the group, as I value your counsel a great deal. …But… uh… if this is a bad time… or if I've misread the situation… we can talk about something else?"

With a shake of her head, Lyn gave her old friend a deprecating smile. "I'm just tired from the drills you already had us run, is all. I had hoped that this would be a more… personal call. I feel as if we hardly ever get to speak outside of battle and battle plans. I hope you'll forgive my selfishness in wishing to speak of… other things, occasionally."

They set the parchment and stones aside. "That is perfectly alright with me."

"You certainly are dedicated when it comes to your craft," Lyn remarked, relaxing into the changed atmosphere within the tent.

"I feel like I have to be," Mark told her, their gaze somewhere far away from the tent with Lyn.

Lyn regarded her friend with an intensity that eventually drew even their attention. "It seems an odd profession, I must confess. To help people win battles, and fight wars that are not your own. I've always wondered why you decided to pursue it, and work as hard towards it as you do."

They let out a light laugh at that, the rueful sound louder in the enclosed space. "I think it's just in my blood."

That caught Lyn's interest, and she leaned forward slightly. "Oh?" she prompted. "How do you mean?"

"One of my parents is a tactician," they explained. "As is my elder sibling."

"A family of tacticians!" exclaimed Lyn in delight. "That's wonderful, that you're pursuing the same craft as they are!" A flash of pain crossed Mark's face at Lyn's words, and her joy at the discovery was abruptly cut down. "…Mark?" she asked, worry knitting her brow. "Is everything alright?"

They shook their head slightly, as if to clear it more than to answer Lyn. "Sorry, homesickness accosted me for a second, there. I haven't seen my family in… some time, you see."

Lyn laid a hand on top of Mark's in empathy. "I understand completely." They gave her a brief smile, and she withdrew the limb.

"I left home a long time ago in order to become a better tactician," Mark continued. "My parent and sibling honed their craft during wartime, and therefore have a lot more practical experience than I do. Since I was fortunate enough to grow up in an era of peace, I lacked the same understanding in real world applications. I said my goodbyes to them, and eventually found myself in Elibe. And then… I met you."

"I'm happy you did," Lyn told them.

"I wonder, sometimes, if I'm living up to their legacy." Mark's expression fell, apprehension clouding their eyes. It was rare that they would let any sort of uncertainty show – they were normally so poised and assured when they directed a battle. "The battles we're facing are getting more and more difficult to win with everyone still alive. I almost lost people in that last one, when we were ambushed. I should have seen it coming. It was exactly the sort of thing I myself would have done on the opposite side."

" _You_ are the one who kept us alive in that battle, not your family." The sudden scolding from Lyn caused her friend to startle, their eyes wide in their shock. "We would have been… _I_ would have been dead a long time ago if not for you," Lyn told them quietly. "Without your guidance, without your friendship… I would never have come as far as I have. I was able to meet my grandfather, and make so many new, lasting friendships because you appeared in my life. Please, have a little faith in your abilities, and not be too hard on yourself."

"Lyn, I…"

"After all, no one died because our tactician was able to think quickly and counter our foe in time," she said with a smile. "And if something unforeseen happens… trust us to know what to do. Trust in the drills and training we've all gone through, in our strength. We won't let you down, Mark. I promise."

Mark's mouth opened, but nothing came out. They shut it, and then laughed. "I came here for your counsel in the first place; I would be wise to take it!"

"You can come to me anytime if something weighs on your mind," she offered.

"I'll take you up on that, Lyn. And… the same goes for you. Anytime… for anything."

Their response drew out a smile Lyn's face that could bring back the sunshine.


	3. Support A

**So, uh... this ended up much longer than anticipated. And it's also largely unedited, sorry. I got really excited over it. So let me know if there's anything super weird or misspelled.**

 **There will be two more parts to this - an S Rank Support (because I'm a sucker for those) and a short double epilogue.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it.**

* * *

 _ **Support A**_

* * *

A knock on the door interrupted Mark's concentration, their head jerking up in surprise from the worn leather journal they'd been scrawling in. "Come in," they said, capping their ink. The door swung open, and a smile spread across Mark's face at the sight of their visitor. "Lyn! What brings you here at…" They paused to glance out the small window in the room. It was completely dark, with no trace of light to be seen. "At such a… late… hour… When did _that_ happen?"

"You didn't notice when the candles were lit?" Lyn closed the door and strode across the small room to the bed, sitting down upon it.

Mark moved their chair to face her. "I confess I didn't."

"You weren't at supper with the rest of us, so I thought I would check in on you." Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out an apple. "And that you might need some nourishment."

Mark's stomach chose that moment to complain loudly. Heat climbed Mark's neck as Lyn let out a giggle and passed them the red fruit. The tactician's expression turned sheepish as they took it. "Thank you. You're always saving me from myself." Setting the apple on the desk, they continued, "I'm sorry I missed supper; I guess I got a little wrapped up in my recordkeeping."

"Is that a part of your tactician training, too?" Lyn inquired, her eyes roaming over the desk's contents – leather book, inkwell, quill holder, quill, blotting cloth, and several ink stains spread across both the woodgrain and on Mark's person. "Battle of the Exploding Inkwell?"

A mock-serious frown overtook Mark's countenance, and they waggled a finger at the Sacaen woman. "That's a tactician's mortal enemy, I'll have you know." Lowering their hand, they clasped it in front of them and regarded Lyn thoughtfully. "So… I'm guessing that the apple isn't the only reason you came looking for me?"

"You're right," confessed Lyn with a sigh, her eyes downcast. "Do you remember a while back, when you said that I could also come to if something was weighing on my mind?"

Mark nodded. "Of course. Anything I can do to help you."

She was silent for a long pace. When she finally spoke, it was with something Mark had never seen before on her features: shame.

"I'm… I was wondering what you do when you get homesick. Since you're so far from your family, I thought you might have a good method for dealing with it when it's… particularly strong."

The question took Mark by surprise, and they stared back at Lyn. "Homesickness… I see. Well… I guess… I throw myself into my studies, and I just… wait until the feeling passes? I'm sorry… I don't think I can be much help to you. I rarely feel homesick nowadays; it's hard when I do, but everyone here feels like another family to me. I missed Lyndis's Legion a lot more than I thought I would, over the last year. With everyone together again, despite the circumstances, I can't help but be happy." A tired smile passed over their face as Lyn's shoulders sank. "I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear. I'm sorry."

With a strong shake of her head, Lyn raised her gaze to Mark's. "No, that's not it. Truth be told, I'm not homesick right now. But…" Her voice dropped off, and she clenched her hands in frustration.

"…But?" Mark prompted when the silence between them became too long for even them.

"Over the last year," Lyn paused and swallowed thickly, "while I was at Castle Caelin… I couldn't help but long for Sacae. It was the strangest thing. At times, it felt like I could feel the plains calling to me on the wind. I ached for them."

"It's natural to miss the place you'd spent your entire life in," Mark told her kindly. "Lycia is a very different place, after all."

She flashed them the briefest of smiles. "I know. It's just… no matter what I do, or how well I'm treated in Caelin, I still feel like a guest there. I don't have the same sense of belonging that I did with the Lorca. I love my grandfather, but I don't think he understands why I feel this way."

"Perhaps it will ease with time?" Mark suggested.

Lyn shook her head once again. "Maybe. But Mark… I haven't felt the same way about Caelin on this journey, not even once. When I think about it, I feel so guilty. And besides… even if I was to go back to the plains…" She closed her eyes in pain. "I'm afraid. I'm so afraid that it will be the same as before I met you." Tears gathered in her eyes, several droplets escaping and sliding down her cheeks even as she visibly fought against them. "I'm terrified of how lonely they were without my tribe with me. My heart was as empty as the sky, and I thought it would crush me." Shaking violently from the force of her quiet sobs, she inhaled sharply. "Mark, I don't know what to do. I feel caught in a spiderweb, unable to move and only tangling myself further the more I try to."

Dumbstruck by Lyn's confession, Mark sat in silence for a long time. They didn't know what to say in response. Dealing with this type of thing wasn't like fighting a war; they didn't have tomes that could tell them the perfect strategy to make Lyn's pain disappear. So they did the next best thing, and reached for Lyn's hands, folding their fingers over hers. The contact was enough to goad her into opening her eyes once more, and she met Mark's gaze with such pleading in them that it broke their heart.

"Lyn," they began slowly. "Do you regret leaving the plains, or meeting your grandfather?"

She took a shuddering breath. "No. Getting to travel with everyone, and meeting him, have been the greatest of joys of my life. I could never regret any of it."

"Then you should take your time to figure things out," they counseled. "Whenever I'm stuck on a problem, I've found that – situation allowing – the best course of action for me to take is… none."

"None?" Lyn echoed in confusion.

"Sometimes you need to have some distance between yourself and a problem before you have solve it. It can give you some much needed perspective on a matter. An answer can sometimes reveal itself to you naturally, and you find yourself thinking it completely obvious. Which leaves you to wonder how it hadn't occurred to you earlier." Mark squeezed Lyn's hands lightly. "This war we're fighting is enough to worry about for any one person. Once it's over, and we can all breathe easily again, that will be the time for other concerns. And you have it, Lyn. Time, I mean. And I don't think anyone who knows you would be able to fault any decision you ultimately make. You have so much to be proud of from both sides of your family – Sacaen and Lycian both. You're a strong fighter, and kinder than anyone I've ever met before. There aren't that many people out in the world that would nurse a dehydrated stranger back from the brink of death!"

Lyn let out a soft laugh at that.

"I'm serious!" Mark protested. "And you know what else you've got going for you, Lyn? Sheer determination. Not just anyone could have taken back an entire castle from a usurper! I'm fully convinced that the force of your will could move the entire world."

With a wry twist of her lips, Lyn remarked, "My grandfather calls it being muleheaded."

"I prefer to think of it as strength of heart," Mark told her with a grin.

Her hands squeezed Mark's briefly before releasing them. "Thank you for this, Mark. I feel a little better now, after talking to you about it." She stood up to leave, slightly flustered by the praise. "I'm sorry if I took up too much of your time."

Mark stood as well, drawing the surprised woman into a hug. She returned it, the strength of her arms comfortable around Mark. "I'll always have the time for you, Lyn," they promised in a harsh whisper. "Always."


	4. Support S

**A long time coming, but here is the S Support for these two. I'm really happy with how it turned out.**

 **All that's left is the epilogue.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this story.**

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 _ **Support S:**_

* * *

"Mark, good morning."

The tactician's hands stilled in the middle of storing their tent in Merlinus's convoy. "Good morning, Lyn," they returned, their eyes softening as their friend joined them. "Did you need something from the convoy?"

She shook her head. "Actually, I was looking for you. Do you… mind if we go somewhere to talk?"

Mark's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but nodded in agreement. "Let me finish with this, and then we can go for a short walk?"

"Let me help you," Lyn offered.

"Sure thing. It'll make it go faster." Once the last of Mark's trunks – no doubt full of tactical books – had been safely stored, the pair departed the covered wagon. Mark waved a farewell to Merlinus, who grinned cheerfully at them.

Once they were out of range of Merlinus's gossip-hungry ears, Mark turned and smiled at Lyn. "So what was it you wanted to talk to me about? Formations?"

"It's always tactical things with you!" she protested, with a light laugh. "No, this is… about what we discussed a while back." Looking down for a moment, she gathered her thoughts as Mark waited patiently for her to continue. "I've been thinking a lot about my future. Beyond this war. My grandfather's health is failing, and I might not have as much time left with him as I would have hoped for once all this is over. He's putting on a strong front for me in his letters, but… I have to face what will happen once he has passed. Caelin is wonderful; it's where my mother grew up, where she met my father, and where my grandfather is. Everyone there is kind. But the rest of Lycia? They've rejected my presence at every turn. Only Eliwood and Hector have been kind. And although I appreciate them, I cannot use my friends as a shield for the rest of my life."

When she paused, Mark touched her shoulder in a wish to comfort her. "I'm sorry, Lyn." There was no point in denying what they both knew was the truth.

She gave them brief flash of a smile. "Thank you, Mark. Lately, I've been feeling the plains calling to me. It's where I grew up, where I lived with mother and father. But I was all alone after my tribe was murdered. The days were endless, like they never were before. I love the plains with all my soul, but the emptiness I felt then was terrifying, and I have no wish to return to that loneliness."

Lyn turned slightly, Mark's hand falling from her shoulder at the action. She gazed at them with a clarity in her eyes that had been missing for a long time. "That's when I realized something," she told them. "My days _were_ empty. They _were_ lonely. And then... _you_ showed up." Lyn's lips quirked upward into a teasing smile. "Half dead of dehydration."

Embarrassment stained Mark's cheeks with red. "Not my finest moment. Or my finest decision in miscalculating my water supply so severely, especially given my desert heritage."

That garnered a laugh from the Sacaen woman. "That may be so, but I am still grateful to Father Sky for bringing you into my life. You gave me new purpose." Her smile had become a full blown grin, as she continued, "And then Kent and Sain entered our lives, and then Wil and Florina joined our group. I was surrounded, once again, with family. Even before we reached my grandfather."

A thoughtful look crossed her face, and reaching out, she took Mark's gloved hands and held it in her own.

"Lyn?" Mark questioned, confused by her sudden action.

"Mark," Lyn began, giving their hands a light squeeze. "Now that we're traveling again, I can see what I couldn't on the plains, or in the halls of Castle Caelin. The only place that's really felt like home these past two years... is when I'm by your side."

Shock passed over Mark's face. "I… Lyn..."

"Please, Mark, let me ask this before I lose my nerve."

They quieted, but their entire focus remained on Lyn.

Lyn swallowed thickly. "After all this is over... When it comes time say our goodbyes to everyone... And once I've said my goodbyes to my grandfather... at that time, could I travel with you again? Just the two of us, wherever that may be?"

Mark gaped at her, their mouth opening and closing comically several times, before they mustered themselves. "I... Lyn... Sorry, I'm finding myself a little tongue-tied. But..." They hesitated, and then relaxed, all of the tension draining from their body. "Of course. Of course you can come with me. Nothing would make me happier, than for us to travel together."

A bright smile spread across Lyn's face. "Like our original plan!"

Laughter erupted from Mark. "You're right! It's about time we made good on that promise, huh?"

Mark squeezed Lyn's hands, just as she had theirs before. "And Lyn... I promise to you, before Father Sky… that you'll never be that lonely ever again."

Lyn held their hands tightly.

" _With you by my side, I'll always be home."_


	5. Epilogue

**The Tactician And The Noblewoman of Sacae**

When her grandfather died, Lyn asked that Caelin be taken under Ostian protection. She then departed to journey the world with her beloved tactician. Though many looked for them, in search of their famed military expertise, the pair were never found. It is said that they lived a long, happy life together, free of loneliness.


End file.
